


Bard

by Sipsthytea



Series: The Witcher and the Bard [18]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gen, Geralt of Rivia is doing his best, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Reincarnation, hes sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sipsthytea/pseuds/Sipsthytea
Summary: He doesn’t ever expect to see him again, let alone in another life time.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Witcher and the Bard [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671085
Comments: 8
Kudos: 109





	Bard

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome! I hope you enjoy this, it’s a cute little fic I wrote a while ago. I hope you enjoy:)
> 
> It is in no way done, well, it’s half baked

When he first met Jaskier, Jaskier was a bard. Loud and annoying, bright blue eyes and the most beautiful singing voice. He was a nuisance in Geralt’s side, some ragtag runaway that wanted adventure. He was someone who grew without knowing strife but knowing pain. He was someone that would’ve hired Geralt for a job, not accompany him on one.

He was easy to love, easy to  _ break _ .

He gave Geralt a new chance at life, gave him a chance to be loved. To be seen as more than just a Witcher, to be seen as a human. And all Geralt could do was shout at him, chasing him away.

The side of that mountain was the last time Geralt saw Jaskier.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take  **you** off my hands,” was what he said. His eyes glowing in anger, an accusatory finger raised. It wasn’t what he meant, but he didn’t need Jaskier’s optimistic approach, he needed room to grieve.

To mourn.

He needed time to hurt.

That still doesn’t mean he meant what he said, lord knows he didn’t, but he said it.

“See you around, Geralt,” Jaskier said. His voice was small, hurt. The footsteps that echoed behind him seemed to rock the ground he stood on. The world shaking with regret, but Geralt couldn’t find the words.

He couldn’t find the ability to apologize, he didn’t know where to begin.

He continued on, trudging away with Roach. Surrounded by the lifelessness of the forest, the silence of a world without a colorful, promiscuous bard trailing behind him. The silence hurt, but he allowed himself to bask in it. For the silence of the night to envelop him, to ease away the scars of losing both Yennefer and Jaskier. Two people he loved, perhaps for different reasons, perhaps for the same, he wasn’t sure.

Geralt only knew that he missed them both.

But, as fate would have it, he wouldn’t stay parted from Yennefer for long.

However, fate seemed to have different plans concerning the bard. He only ever heard stories of Jaskier. Only catching in the gossip of villagers that had nothing better to do with their day.

_ “Have you heard of him?” _

_ “Who?” _

_ “The bard.” _

That’s what they called him, ‘the bard.’ Never ‘Jaskier,’ always, ‘the bard.’

That made the pain easier, being able to walk around the world without constantly hearing the name of a friendship he severed. But the pain was still there, it was silent, only cracking down on him in lowly taverns. In the corners of unoccupied space, space where Jaskier should be.

_ “Have you heard?” _

_ “What?” _

_ “They say that bard has died.” _

_ “Died you say?!” _

_ “Yes, the poor thing just keeled over one day.” _

**Dead** ?

That couldn’t be.

No, that was  _ wrong _ . A tale made by the people of this town, a town that happened to hate him. It was nothing more than a joke-filled to the brim with malicious intent.

_ “Where did he die?” _

_ “They found him on the coast, near the ocean. He was dead, grasping onto a medallion of sorts and his lute. Oh, it was so awful…” _

**The coast?**

_ The coast. _

A place he never got to go, a place he’ll never get to go.

___________

Meeting Jaskier for a second time was a surprise. This time, he sported a cap, shading his brunette hair, it was longer than the first time, brushing against the collar of his shirt. He looked more rugged, a bit taller, but his eyes were still sea blue. His smile was still as bright as the sun.

He was still  _ Jaskier _ .

Armed with an acoustic guitar. Strolling across the packed bar, spewing on an on with a wretched song, one that was far to mundane.

Geralt couldn’t believe it, not at first. Thinking that he was possibly seeing a ghost, or it was a vision brought on by the god-awful booze.

His grip on his cup tightening, heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He was here.

Not at the coast.

_ Here _ .

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and,” he made a gesture with his hand, “ _ brood _ .”

A response sat in his throat, burned the back of it. Itching to ask, questions filling his mind, pressing firmly against his heart. Questions of ‘where’ of ‘how’? But then, there was also the buildup of an apology, an ‘I’m sorry.’

“I’m here to drink alone,” he breathed, eyes softening.

Jaskier only made a brief sound of acknowledgment before sitting himself down in front of Geralt. Hands linked over his cup, a bright look in his eye.

“You’re a Witcher,” He whispered, ducking his head down low.

Hm, so more observant than before.

“There are so few of you left, and you’ve managed to survive,” A soft chuckle left his lips, lifting his glass, “That alone deserves a toast.”

Yes, this was Jaskier, the same as before the same as always.

But he was a bit taller, a bit broader. His hands were calloused, not only at his fingertips, as they had been before, but around his palms. Jaskier was sharper, stronger.

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathed, chest rising rapidly, “It’s  _ you _ .”

“That’s my name,” He smirked, before the smile fell from his face, “W-Wait. How do you know that?”

It was  **him** , but not  _ him _ .

Jaskier but not  **his** Jaskier.

A stranger.

A stranger he loved.

“Intuition,” he retorted, raising his glass to his lips, gulping down the bitter liquid that swirled inside. He clenched his hand, holding himself back. He wanted so badly to reach over, to pull the bard into a hug, into a…something. He wanted to hear that damn song again, to deal with the weight of Jaskier’s tunics on his back. He wanted it all.

“Is that so?” Jaskier beamed, raising his hand, sliding his guitar to his back, “Well, nice to meet you, Witcher.”

“Yes, nice to meet you.”

_ Bard _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this cute little fic!  
> Don’t be shy, leave me a comment on your thoughts, corrections, or things you’d like to read in the future.  
> [psa: comments keep me motivated and help me know that my work is being read and seen, so, please:) no pressure 🥺💕]


End file.
